Landscape Of The Lost
by lastglimpseofwinter
Summary: There was a chill in her bones, freezing her from within, but as she settled into the oak chair she felt warmer than she had felt in a long time. A series of unconnected drabbles
1. afterward

As a way of keeping busy, I have decided to do a series of drabbles from the point of Balerion, Rhaenys' kitten who 'disappeared' after the review and let me know what you thought, these are meant to be short, quickly written blurbs from Balerion/Rhaenys' point of view. Also if you have any questions or are unclear about anything, review or PM me.

i. afterward;

He remembered the day that the lions entered the dragon's lair. It was the day that the world went dark, taking with it his right eye, and his female counterpart. Balerion remembered Rhaenys fondly, they had often spent long hours in the sun playing, cuddling, and listening to Rhaenys' mother, Elia read.

As he ran through the castle his worlds ran parallel, out of his left eye he could see tapestries, gowned snakes and the wolf girl chasing after him, his left eye was boring. It was the right that held his full attention, as Balerion scurried down the stairs of the White Sword Tower he could see Ser Lewyn carrying Rhaenys upon his shoulders, both of them laughing and shouting. Both of them were gone now, and Balerion could find only echoes of them now.

If his girl of violet had lived, she would be eighteen by now, a woman grown. She hadn't though, all that was left were bursts of anger and Balerion. He mourned for the woman she would have become, and the girl she had been, but mostly he anguished over what she had become, children shouldn't die true deaths. Rhaenys had, and now she would live out her second life until he died.

His vision flashed red, she was back again from wherever it was she went, and she was angry. As Balerion faded into the corners of his mind, he mourned for the realm, and those who lived and died within. 


	2. bogwater

Timid eyes fixed out the window she waited and watched. If she was lucky the swells would grow and grow until they tore down Windwrym Tower and her with it. Clasping her hands together, she prayed to The Seven and gazed at the fires on the beach below. From her perch by the window she could clearly see the flames leap and sway against the sand, muttering prayers beneath her breath she apologized to all of them. To The Mother, The Father, The Crone, The Stranger, The Maiden, The Warrior and The Smith, to each of them, she offered up her words of amends, but she knew amends would not put the fires out. For the fires were on the beach, on the carvings of the gods, and in her father's soul, and her whispers would aid none of them. Nor would she.

Shutting the curtains and averting her eyes, she ignored the outside happenings. Walking across her room to the door, she crept out and down the hallway without a sound. Stealing through the castle she encountered servants, maesters, and some of her father's dogs. She saw each of them, and each of them looked right through her. A tang of pine hit her nose and she saw that she'd arrived at her destination, Aegon's Garden. It was her favorite place in the Stone Drum, and Shireen found sanctuary in the bog. It was grim, touched by death, feared, and it reminded her of herself. Yet along it grew the finest cranberries in the garden.

Jingling, Patchface ran throughout the halls, and she could hear him long before he was within sight. Shaking his antlers to and fro and murmuring to himself. ___"Places of sorrow, woman of gold, eyes that do seem, much too old."_

Noisily he swayed towards her, and Shireen felt that familiar feeling creep into her chest, like a monster within was plucking her organs and draining her blood, leaving her cold. ___"Much too old, much too old! Oceans of fire, dragons of stone, poor girl! Poor girl! Always alone."_

He tottered to a halt in front of her, and gave a smiling bow before leaping up and laughing behind his fingers. Her eyes softened, Patches was back. Holding out a hand for her to take, with a face to hopeful to deny, Shireen did not doubt that her friend had returned to her, as best he could. She took it with a soft grin and let him lead her to Seven knows where. Shireen wondered if they'd get there before Patchface returned, they rarely did.

Sleepless nights haunted her, and dark days came. Shireen hadn't seen her parents in a fortnight. Father would not leave The Chamber of the Painted Table, he sat up there day and night seeing no one but his red priestess and his dogs. Mother refused to leave the temple of R'holler she had built in her new chambers, they were low in the Drum and exceptionally warm. Shireen had never cared for heat.

Looking in the mirror and applying some cream to her cheek and neck, she froze. It was her eyes.___They matched the left side of her face, they were dead, and they were old._ Grasping her hairbrush off the table she hurled it at the image. It fracture and her face altered. Now Shireen had a split from her right eye to the cleft of her chin, and in place of her eyes all she could see was the wall of stone. The stone was ice cold, but she hadn't ever seen a warmer sight.

The ocean had never frightened her, and as she sat with her lady-mother on the ship bound for Eastwatch, she resolved that it never would. Winds tugged and tore at the sails as the current tried to pull them off course as Selyse cradled her lantern and whispered wishes of survival to the flame. Shireen sat silently and looked into the black depths. The water twisted and swirled, and it looked like it was dancing, only Shireen didn't know the steps or the rhythm. As it swayed, she thought it looked like fire. The trip by ship was long and lonely, the sailors kept their distance due to her illness and her mother was only present in the physical sense, but as they neared the port in the Bay of Seals she thought that she would miss the rocking of the boat and the lash of the wind. Timidly she stepped off and onto the dock. It was cold out and the air smelt of sadness.

Chambers had been given to her, she'd been told they were the finest in the castle, second only to those of her parents and the red woman. There was a bed, with a goose feather pillow and animal pelt throws, a table and chair, several candles, a fireplace and a bathroom. It was strange, the room was sparsely decorated, containing only the bare minimum, however Shireen felt more at home here than in her own room on Dragonstone. ___There was a chill in her bones, freezing her from within, but as she settled into the oak chair she felt warmer than she had felt in a long time._


	3. cakes

She crept through the stables, ___quiet as a shadow,_ and altogether unnoticed by the people around her. The merchants sold their wares and she sold her's. She spotted her target emerging from the crowd ahead, wearing a circlet of bronze and iron and plain black clothes. He was conversing with a woman, her hair the colour of bleached sand. Tightening her grip on Needle, she approached. The woman must have said something funny, because he tossed his head back with a loud laugh and his grey eyes sparkled in a way their father's never had. As he stopped laughing, he saw her, a quick look at his companion left him alone.

They were mere feet apart now, and she could open him from balls to brain and tell the Kingslayer what Starks were made of, but Jon had always been so much more than just a Stark. Their eyes locked, grey on grey. A smile bloomed on his face like a winter rose and he closed the distance between them. _"____Little Sister" _he spoke gently, _"____little sister."_

An unladylike snort escaped from her, _"____I am no one's sister, not anymore."_

Instead of looking offended or sad, he simply mussed her hair. _"____Aye, aren't we all. Everyone is no one now, aren't they?"_

A soft chuckle and a calloused hand in her hair, the only non-violent human contact she'd had since Gendry. _"____I suppose I don't have to kill you today. For I was sent to kill the Dragon King In The North, not no one."_

_"____I suppose you're right, little sister, I suppose you're right."_

_"____Stupid, I'm always right."_

_"____I am sure you are."_

Huffing angrily to herself, she looked around Wintertown, she hadn't been here in a year but not much had changed. _"____Thank you for coming, it is truly a gift to see you again."_

_"____Of course I'm here stupid, did the Others take your brain before they were vanquished?!"_

He simply laughed, and disregarded her lack of manners as always, before his shoulders slumped and he prepared to ask his annual question. _"____Will you stay for the feast? Sansa is here, and Bran and Rickon? They'd love to see you..."_ Clearing his throat and standing awkwardly, he looked like Lord Eddard come again. _"____...and Lady Cat-Lady Stoneheart is here as well, she would be overcome with joy if she could see you."_

_"____Maybe next year."_

_"____Of course."_

Re-sheathing Needle, she tugged him forward for a quick embrace. _"____Happy Name Day Jon...give my love to the others?"_

Cradling her close for the few moments he had her until next year, Jon messed with her hair. _"____I will, and little sister?"_

_"____Yes?"_

_"____Thanks for coming, see you next year?"_

Scoffing she untangled herself from him and started to walk away, she wondered___if all bastards were stupid._

_"____Yes Stupid, I will be here next year!"_

___It certainly seemed that way._


	4. dove

_"____Sansa?"_ he called quietly.

_"____Hmm?"_

_"____Have you forgotten the purpose of this gathering? You called them here to discuss the possibility of a treaty between the Hill Tribes and the Noble Houses of the Vale."_

_"____Thank you, my lord. I fear I had lost myself in my thoughts."_

Perched upon the weirwood seat, she observed the hall. Lords and Ladies of the Vale were dining at the table below, smiling and laughing amongst themselves. They were close enough that she could hear the jokes that they shared, the conspiratorial giggles in-between their children, who seemed to be planning a scheme of some sort in the east end of the hall.

Sending a grin towards her husband, _"____I think the treaty can wait until tomorrow, Tyrion. Let's just let them enjoy today."_

Tyrion just smiled, and walked off towards the children, ___no doubt to help them with their plot._

Looking at the blue veins in the marble, she remembered that when she had first been spirited away here, she never expected to grow to call it home, ___it was too similar to Winterfell, but at the same time too different._ It was cold, the height they were at caused it to rarely be warmer than a crisp spring morning in the South, ___but it lacked the true ache of winter, that took root in your bones when you were in the North._ The colours even were quite close, Arryn blue and white in place of Stark grey and white.

It wasn't Winterfell, but sometime during the War, the North ceased to be home. It might have been because it would never be as it was. It might have been because it wasn't Winterfell that was home but rather those who lived within it's walls. ___It might have been because Sansa had been a bird longer than she'd ever been a wolf. _Sansa had been caged for too many years to ever make the true flight home, instead she sought the best perch and what could have been better than the seat of House Arryn, their words were Higher Than Honour and their castle was the highest in the realm.


End file.
